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BORI DAY SPECIAL
The Darigan Bori
Nightfall paints the world anew
In bold colours and wan moonlight,
But when most of us resign to sleep,
Others come to traverse the night.
He lurks among the chasms dark,
Shadows dance and cloak his form,
But dull blue fur trails in the wind
And eyes flash crimson like a storm.
He's not a pet you'd want to cross --
His wit is sharp; his claws are too.
His shell bristles with razor spines,
A malicious Bori, through and through.
His name is Seraph; it must be said
The name befits him not at all.
He plots eternal, with but one goal:
To see Faerieland break and fall.
Cursed and trapped for ten whole years
And cast in stone for two thousand more,
He's waited long for victory
And vengeance permeates his core.
He glares and folds his spiky limbs,
Terse patterns does pointed tail weave.
And oh! What's this? You're in his way?
Perhaps you really ought to leave...
The Keeper of Time
Icicles dangle from the ceiling,
Sparkling like wonderful gems.
Within a chasm is gasping,
From it a cavern stems.
Hidden within is one watcher,
With eyes that have seen ages,
And saw their endless slumber,
Through time's many pages.
He is the Keeper of Time,
The eternal watcher of Bori.
While the icicles did chime,
Around his sleeping species.
He guarded them from harm,
With his wisdom and his magic.
Invading forces did he charm,
Using the staff, a frozen relic.
He saved Hannah from her curse,
The Bori he woke with his call.
Everything could have been worse,
If the Keeper had not helped at all!
This Bori with his long white beard
Still guards his people today.
He is one to be feared and revered,
For watching the passage of Time.
All Bori, no matter where they roam,
Are linked back to their mountain home.
The Heart of the Mountain beats yet within
Each and every Bori skin.
And Donny's mallet keeps the time
Of ancient syncopated rhyme.
Long years ago did Bori sleep
Within the mountain's craggy deep.
The Keeper of Time had cast a spell
To keep his nation safe and well.
Now Donny's mallet keeps the time
Of patient syncopated rhyme.
Protected by their frozen king,
A crystal's pulse in their hearts echoing,
The Bori slept for untold years
But woke to battle strong and fierce.
With Donny's mallet keeping time
Of urgent syncopated rhyme.
Now free to wake and to explore,
To leave for distant, sunny shores.
One Bori remained on mountaintop
To serve as a link from his Toy Shop.
Always will Donny's mallet keep the time
Of the mountain's sustaining, syncopated rhyme.
The Abominable Bori
By Mithril_mithrandir and Reveirie
Footfalls punch through crust of ice,
Claws dig snow, fangs snap and slice.
Cloudy breath steams into air,
Bori stops, at landscape stares.
The snow it glistens, soft and white,
Gleaming in the dark of night,
And in the distance, shadows creep,
Hoping they don't make a peep.
A cutting cold that leaves no mark,
Icicle wind shears through dark.
Against the gale, Bori persists,
Spiralling snow about him twists.
The storm, relentless, ice and sleet,
Wind twirls around his frozen feet.
The sky grows darker as clouds roll in,
Abominable, frigid, just like him.
Twisted features grant him his name,
Shivering, the hunching frame,
The ragged fur, the snarling teeth,
Bright crimson eyes hide fright beneath.
The endless trek of endless ice,
Companion to his endless vice.
A wasteland he cannot escape
The Bori kneels, accepts his fate.
The Bori Burrow
A tiny hole in the frozen ground,
With frosted edges, all icy and round.
But underneath is different, I'm sure,
Through this hole there's so much more.
A little burrow for Bori to hide,
And a winding tunnel to slip and slide.
Reach the end and you'll find a nest,
The perfect place for Bori to rest.
There are chairs, tables, and a fireplace,
Plus curtains and carpet, trimmed with lace.
All so elegant, full of style,
Bori surround you with a smile.
A beautiful coven to wait out a storm,
Instead of freezing, you're comfy and warm.
The Bori are certainly a courteous bunch,
They'll even provide you with some lunch.
And once you're ready to get on your way,
They'll say that there's no need to repay.
Simply happy to have someone new,
Simply happy to have met you.
And as you leave to a round of applause,
You realise that you don't possess claws.
With a slippery tunnel as the only route,
It doesn't look like you'll be getting out.
The Bori Gnome Helpers
Whispering wind, autumn chill,
Leaves turn and flowers go to rest.
Diminutive helpers with great skill
Put their claws to the test!
Each brightly garbed in brilliant colour,
With soft red floppy (and warm) hats,
Go about work with zest and ardour
As they merrily giggle and chat.
A Bori gnome the hue of yellow
Passes by carrying fire-red leaves.
He smiles and waves, the cheerful fellow
(What else can Leaf Carrying Bori Gnome achieve?)
Whatever the leaf the last gnome might miss,
The little red furred gnome will find.
Raking and singing, in this he finds bliss --
To this job the Raking Bori Gnome is assigned.
Crouching by a moss-covered stone,
With a long snow white beard in the way,
The Curious Bori Gnome sits alone,
Chasing bugs gleefully all day.
In orange flowers fuzz of sage green
Plucks the choicest to display.
What is the Flower Picking Gnome doing?
Collecting flowers for Bori Day!
Ice Bori Celebrations
Rise of sunlight, morning snow,
The fragile beams on soft flakes glow.
An ebon nose seen through the ice,
A gentle sniff, just once or twice.
He seeks the titan dawn of day,
A signal time has come to play.
Glaciers create the scene,
Aloft they stand, alight with sheen.
The slippery surface low and wide,
For Bori, it's the perfect slide.
A giggling skate near powdered snow,
Tuck tail in tight, and off they go!
Layered shell keeps each one warm,
So shielding back from icy storm.
On crystal creatures sun shall stream,
Translucent light shifts silken gleam.
Each Bori claw sinks through the snow,
Like icicles, such lambent glow.
A secret ice Bori won't tell,
The proper use for crystal shell.
A sled when used to slip and slide,
Upon ice breaks, it helps them glide.
Within the frozen realm they reign,
The Bori Clan, of ice domain.
The Bori of the Seasons
Along the cobblestone steps, they stand,
not dazzlingly bright, nor dull and bland,
four little gnomes, all placed with reason:
each represents one of four seasons.
When spring is floating across the air,
this Bori statue shows no real care.
He plucks a stray flower from a neighbouring patch,
wondering if it would make for good thatch:
The springtime rains will be coming soon,
under a joyous sun and benevolent moon.
As bugs fly across the warm, dry sky,
a Bori is watching with keenest of eye.
Lightmites dance while twilight sets,
dodging the swings of snaring nets.
One calm insect flutters over his beard,
telling of Fall, and the way it once neared.
If the trees turn orange, brown, and red,
make sure this Bori gets out of bed!
There's piles of crunchy leaves to be made,
for jubilant juniors to happily wade!
He must search as well for ones fresh yet;
with no dew to make moist, they won't stay wet.
Once winter comes by, the work spent in past
proves useful indeed, and does so quite fast.
A lone Bori hauls leaves as shields from the snow,
as store to store he must hurriedly go.
When the white melts away, the season has ended!
Another year to those past is quickly appended.
The cycle repeats, all three sixty five,
showing that seasons are surely alive.
These Bori, though silent, still tell their tale
of the quarter year from which they hail.
Protection of the Bori Mage
Crystals on the cavern walls,
Magic of the ancient halls,
Voice of female Bori calls:
"Come together now."
Ears and forehead shine with gold,
Cape and robes, rich purple fold,
In her eyes burns fire of old:
Marks of solemn vow.
Bori mage wields magic deep,
Casting beasts back to dark sleep,
Peace she is destined to keep:
No one tells her how.
Black and blue of icy caves,
Memories of frozen graves,
Precious heritage she saves:
Enemies will bow.
Battle won, she fades away,
Duty done, she does not stay,
One by one, the Bori say:
Fond farewells, for now.
The Unlikely Hero
So small in size, so short in height,
His name is Armin the Small,
The first Bori known to Neopia,
Was much braver than he was tall.
He first brought Hannah to safety,
A courageous act, indeed --
But more of his strength was soon to come,
As Armin saw those who were in need.
The one who defeated the Bringer, he --
That terrible, destructive thing --
As Armin aimed his slingshot at him,
More joyful days, did he bring.
The unlikely hero -- Armin is he,
Keeping all Bori safe for now,
And today we all know, and see,
That being small matters no more!
Children walk, so unsteady,
Up to the mountain top
To have things fixed. But he's not ready.
Why won't the breaking stop?
In the old days, in the gold days,
Things were different, this he knew.
In the long-before-the-cold days ...
But his memories are so few.
Perhaps it's not just toys that break,
Not just glass that grimes.
Memories blur, as bones ache,
And as for hearts, they slow with time.
A time ago, he loved this,
This he knows for sure.
But this fixing, so endless...
He knows not what it's for.
Donny, fixer, fix my broken toys.
Donny, fear not; there's no tricks.
Donny, fixer, forget the warm world's ploys.
Donny, fixer, you've naught to do but fix.
Keeper of Time
Time has no master but one,
The one who has seen the rise of many suns.
Watching over his people in their time of frost,
Without his guidance, all would be lost.
The Frozen King, they call his name,
Once awake, the mountain is never the same.
The Bori frozen had all but succumbed,
But in the end, their battle was won.
Hannah dear, you owe your life,
Attempt to stay away from strife.
Music notes hang in the air,
Capture their essence with loving care.
He releases them all to grasp the night,
The sun rises for him, a magnificent sight.
If you should make the mountain's climb,
Be sure to visit the Keeper of Time.
Total Poetry Pages : 1972
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